


the study of the ocean in our veins

by almondmilktea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Love, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:52:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almondmilktea/pseuds/almondmilktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let’s begin here- the language of skin and unspoken words where a mere fingertip trailing down the curve of a spine can say more than any combination of words. The entire world is made up of different languages, but the most important one is body language. It’s universal, holding hands being one of the most well known because there’s nothing in this world that can make you’re mine more prominent than intertwining fingers with someone else. Holding someone’s hand is the most simple and intimate way to announce to the world 'I’m in love'.</p><p>AU where louis and harry find each other, but lose themselves in the process</p>
            </blockquote>





	the study of the ocean in our veins

**Author's Note:**

> This took me forever to write because it went way out of hand, like it usually does. At first it was supposed to be something about angst and then I decided to throw in body language, but then Harry got that anchor tattoo and then I thought 'hey, why not make it even more complicated and add ocean-nautical themes?' I hate myself.
> 
> I hope you guys like this!

Let’s begin here- the language of skin and unspoken words where a mere fingertip trailing down the curve of a spine can say more than any combination of words. The entire world is made up of different languages, but the most important one is _body language_. It’s universal, holding hands being one of the most well known because there’s nothing in this world that can make _you’re mine_ more prominent than intertwining fingers with someone else. Holding someone’s hand is the most simple and intimate way to announce to the world _I’m in love_.

There’s more, of course; the simple fact that eye contact can send shivers up one’s spine and electrify every nerve in their body or playing footsie under the table because one enjoys to play and test the game of secrecy in public. Once someone learns to speak body language, to learn how to communicate with someone else’s skin, then they’re in for a long road of pure bliss and tragic heartache and it’s going to be lovely beyond belief.

His body was like an ocean: comforting and inviting. Louis remembers how it was such a privilege that he got to explore the depth of it: every curve, every dip, every freckle and everything else in between. They would lie in bed in the dark with their legs entangled like seaweed for hours, their fingers tracing each other’s body as if they were reading braille. The first time they made love, Harry spread him out as if he were seashells along the sand and it was like two waves crashing into each other, something so graceful yet forceful that it would make marine biologists want to study because they’ve never two waves wrap around each other so beautifully as if they travelled across all the oceans just to collide into one another. They’d be like a new discovery, one of the books.

Louis doesn’t know if this is the end of their story, but it _feels_ that way. He looks at his hand and how it’s empty, just like the rest of him. He’s alone and there’s most likely a poem in that. He’s in love, but he doesn’t know what to do. They were a collection of beautiful clichés and it broke his heart.

\--

His days go like this; Louis drags his arse out of bed, he drags himself to work, and he continues to drag himself throughout his day. It’s just a constant _dragging_ as if he has an anchor tied to his ankles and as the days pass, he can feel his feet feeling heavier with every step, resisting its destination. His days are full of cup after cup of tea, ruffled sheets, late breakfasts and creaking floorboards.

All that’s missing is Harry.

The sky is overcast, a gray blanket that Louis wants to wrap himself in. People are moving on with their lives, rushing into cars and walking their kids across the street, yet Louis can’t even bring himself get up from his bed and make himself his morning tea because he never _had_ to up until two months ago. There are other things that Louis should be worrying about, like his job that pays the rent or missed calls from his friends that he’s been ignoring. There could probably be a tsunami coming over to wash them all away, but he would welcome it with open arms because he’s spent the last two months washing away his bed sheets along with bits of Harry, washing his clothes that still lingered with his scent, washing his skin and scrubbing it so hard that’d it be practically _raw_ as if he could wash away his fingertips. But he knows better; that he can scrub at his skin all he wants, but he can never wash away the echo of Harry’s skin against his. Harry’s fingerprints are all over who he is now.

His phone vibrates beside him and if he thinks hard enough, it almost feels like Harry’s chest grumbling in the morning when he doesn’t want to leave for school. Louis closes his eyes and lets it vibrate for another couple of seconds before he reaches over and answers it with a soft grunt as a greeting.

“I know you’re going through a rough time, but you’re being a bit melodramatic there if you can’t even give your mate a proper hello after _ignoring_ my other calls, you twat,” Zayn says.

Louis rubs his eye tiredly, shifting from his back to his side. There are no limbs to get knock against, no warmth to curl into and it’s been two months but he hasn’t gotten used to it. “I have a busy schedule of sleeping my day away, so if you there was an actual purpose to this call, I’d appreciate if you said it now.”

“Where the fuck have you been? I haven’t seen you for two weeks. If you hadn’t answered this phone call, there would have been posters with your face on it across town,” Zayn replies.

“I’ve been _here_ , in my bed. Where else would I be?” Louis asks, exhausted from the conversation already.

There’s rustling down the line along with muffled voices and Louis can already tell that Zayn is with the others. “Do you want us to come over?” Zayn asks. “We can bring over a couple cases of beer and you can watch me kick Liam’s arse in Call of Duty.”

There’s a moment of silence and Louis checks his phone to see that the line didn’t end.

“Are you okay?” Zayn finally asks.

Jesus, he should have seen that one coming. It’s like friends of people who just got broken up with read from a script. “No I’m not okay. I’m fucking exhausted,” Louis mutters. He’s being difficult and he knows it, but he spent the first month sobbing on Zayn’s shoulder, crashing on Zayn and Liam’s couch, and drinking with Niall so much that he blacked out once. Now he just wants to be _alone_.

“Exhausted from _what?_ ” Zayn questions.

Louis fights the urge to bury his face into his pillow and scream. “ _Life_ , Zayn. Life is fucking exhausting, going to work is exhausting, loving people is exhausting and I just lost someone that I love, which is probably the most exhausting thing of all.”

Zayn sighs heavily, defeated. “Bye, Lou.”

The line clicks dead and he looks at the screen of his phone because it’s unlike Zayn to just end a conversation like that. Louis just swings his legs off the edge of the bed that’s too big for one person because it became a home for two people, walks into his kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine and settles on the couch. He spends the next hour watching The Office until there’s a pounding on his door.

His heart immediately begins to beat quicker because even though he knows it’s not him, he still clings onto the hope that it might be. He sets himself up for disappointment every time and this time it’s no different when he opens the door and sees Zayn.

Louis steps aside to make room for Zayn to walk in, not even bothering putting up a fight. “Wine?”

Zayn nods and heads over to the couch. Louis pours him a glass and refills his before handing it to Zayn and sitting at the opposite end.

“Lou, c’mon,” Zayn says quietly. “We miss you. _All_ of us.”

Louis swirls his wine in the glass. “I miss you guys too, so you can pass the message along to the others.”

Zayn reaches over and brushes the back of his hand along Louis’ forearm. “You can’t just hole yourself up in your flat. He wants to see you. He’s okay, you know?”

 _Christ_ , that’s the last thing Louis wants to hear. “Yeah, well I don’t want to see him because I’m so _fucking_ far from okay that it’s on the verge of pathetic,” Louis says. He shifts downwards on the couch and runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s been two months since he left and I’m not okay.”

“You have to stop keeping track of how long it’s been,” Zayn replies sadly.

A shot of emotions go through his mind that he doesn’t know which one to pick; frustration, disbelief, anger, morose. All of them at once, maybe, because it’s such _bullshit_ that people tells him not to dwell on the time since Harry left but it’s fine to keep track of how long they’ve been together. Because it’s not _fair_ , how else is he supposed to keep track of time? He spent four years with him and now it’s been two months without him. Being with him and being without him is the only way Louis has to measure time.

Louis scoffs and shakes his head, staring at the ceiling. “I just want to stop wanting.”

\--

Sometimes Louis catches himself thinking back on their relationship to try and find the signs of where it started going wrong. In the end, he _can’t_ see where things started to crumble in his hands and that’s what hurts most of all.

They both had the day off from work and school so they spent it tangled up in each other and it was so simple that Louis should have known something would go wrong because he’s 23 and Harry’s 21, they’re young and nothing is ever fucking simple when you’re young. He didn’t understand where Harry was coming from when he said _I’m losing myself_ and Louis looked at him with a frown and replied with _I’m here with you_ , his frown deepening when Harry just shook his head with tear stained cheeks. They were at their dinner table eating leftover pasta that Harry made the other night and now Louis can’t even look at an Italian restaurant with that night replaying over and over in his head like a broken record.

Louis reached across the table to take Harry’s hand in his and his stomach dropped when he pulled away. _That’s just it, Lou. I never meant to depend so much on someone else._ He dropped his fork and looked down at his plate while Harry continued, _I love you so much that it hurts every minute I’m not with you and that’s why I need to go_. His vision was blurred with tears as he just stared down blankly at his plate and tried to drown out Harry’s trembling voice saying _I don’t mind losing myself with you every now and then, I just need to learn how to be myself again, how to be separate from you_.

He wanted to put up a fight and scream _you can’t just leave me I love you please don’t go_ but found that there was no point because Harry already made up his mind, had it made up for awhile if he put so much thought into it. Looking back now, he just wants to know when Harry stopped being his. He wants to know when Harry started saying his goodbyes that were disguised as greetings because he already had his mind made up about leaving.

Instead, Louis just watched his tears drop down onto their wooden table that they found on the sidewalk and muttered _I love you so much I am so in love with you that there isn’t anything else_ , choking on his words halfway. Harry grabbed his hand and his touch was what made him fall in love with Harry but in that moment, it only made him fall apart. Harry just smiled sadly at him and said _that’s exactly it there are so much other things that we’ve been ignoring_. Louis walked around their table so he could fall onto Harry’s lap, pressing chaste kisses to his lips which Harry returned fervently. The sound of waves pushing onto the shore filled his ears as he whispered _I miss you so much and you’re not even gone yet please don’t go I’ll break_ and the more he resisted Harry leaving, the more he was pushing him away.

He just didn’t _see_ it. Harry still held him at night, he still kissed him softly in the morning and Louis wants to believe that if Harry wanted the blow to hurt as least as possible for Louis, then he would at least have the decency to give him some sort of subtle warnings for him to catch on. Louis knew a lot of things when it came to Harry; he knew that he loved him even before he felt how Harry moved against him in his sleep or even before he knew what Harry’s skin felt like against his. The moment they made eye contact it might not have been love at first sight, but Louis couldn’t help thinking _god we are going to become something more than just strangers_.

He saw all of that, but this- _this_ he couldn’t see coming.

The past two months have been thoughts like _your skin spoke to my body in a language so beautiful that would make linguistics jealous_ and _my heart hurts so badly that this must be what a broken heart feels like_.

Harry said he was the one feeling lost, but now he’s gone and Louis feels like he is the one walking around blindfolded in the dark.

\--

Early mornings are the worst because those were the times that Louis and Harry had for themselves before life caved in and rushed them off to go work and school. Each morning they would turn to each other and kiss before saying a single world because a kiss, they realized, was so much more gratifying than words no matter how minute it is.

Louis used to have an alarm before Harry came along since he always woke up earlier than him. They would lay in bed while the sun painted their skin the color of its rays, drawing routes on the map of each other’s bodies and their lips would explore this new world they created on each other’s skin, throwing away the compass because they didn’t care if they got lost.

It’s his first winter without Harry and he used to be welcomed with a steaming cup of tea, but now he drinks his cold coffee that sits on his side table from the night before.

When he arrives at work, his boss tells him to make a coffee run so he grits his teeth and gets back in his car to drive to the coffee shop down the street. He waits in line, tapping his foot against the aluminum floors. Louis reads over the menu even though he already had his morning coffee because _why the hell not_ , the company’s paying for it but he can’t decide between white mocha or caramel-

“Lou?”

His stomach drops onto the floor and his mind goes black. When a hand gently grabs his shoulder, he flinches away and almost bumps into the person in front of him because he even if he didn’t hear _his_ voice, he knows his skin.

Louis dreadfully turns around and when his eyes fall on Harry, it’s a rush of _Sunday mornings_ and _your skin on mine_ and _I miss you so fucking much_. Thirty seconds is all it takes. Half of one _fucking_ minute and he comes crumbling down like a sand castle because that’s all it takes for him to fall in love all over again. There are dark circles underneath his eyes and Louis wonders if he hasn’t been sleeping well just like him. He wonders if he wakes up to aching limbs because they spent the entire night shifting in bed looking for arms and legs to tangle themselves in. He wonders if he spends his nights crying so hard it feels like he fell asleep in the ocean.

The last time they saw each other was a month and a half ago at Liam and Zayn’s flat. They would always try to make room for each other on the recliner chair and it hurt when Harry walked in and looked at Louis on their usual seat with a sad smile, sitting on the floor instead.

Harry stands there with the hoodie of his jacket over his head, smiling, maybe nervous. Maybe breathless like Louis. “Hey, I knew it was you. I knew I’d find you eventually.”

It’s an inside joke they started when they first started seeing each other. Whenever Zayn, Liam or Niall would mention that Harry was joining them, Louis would make up an excuse not to go because being around him always made Louis flustered. (It still does.) Harry would text him _I’ll find you_ and Louis’s reply would be _stop stalking me or ill call the cops_. It’s a mystery how Harry never even knew how to find him but always managed to find him anyway.

There’s just so much space between them. Louis is so used to Harry’s body moving against his. He’s used to his breath catching in his throat whenever he sees him. He’s used to his eyes searching the crowd until his eyes fall on him. It used to always be _contact contact contact_ and now there’s nothing but _space_ , which to Louis is pretty much _rejection_ and _you’re not mine anymore_.

“Yeah, um,” Louis’ voice comes out ragged and he has to clear his throat. “Just doing a coffee run for the office.”

“Remember when you started out as an intern there and all you did were coffee runs?” Harry says. “We always joked that the workers would hire you on the spot if you ever applied since you probably already know all the drinks.”

Louis’ breath hitches because _remember? no I’ve spent the last two months trying to forget please please please don’t do this to me_. It’s been one minute into the conversation and he can’t do this, he needs to leave. He doesn’t think he can stand one more _second_ of being in Harry’s vicinity without reaching for him. Louis needs to remind himself that they’re not two waves colliding into each other anymore, they’ve separated and they’re moving to the shore on their own.

“I need to order,” Louis mutters, his voice unsteady.

Harry frowns. “Lou, I know-“

“I need to order,” Louis says, firmly this time. “The office is probably going mental without their coffee.”

He turns his back to Harry and rushes to the register, reciting his order to the girl and pretends that he doesn’t feel Harry’s eyes burning holes into his back. When he gets his drinks, he doesn’t even glance at him because this is what Harry wanted. He wanted to be his own person, without Louis. So Louis will help him, as much as it fucking kills him.

\--

A couple of days later, Louis tugs his coat around his body tighter and rubs his hands together as he and Zayn walk down the street to the pub. He really didn’t want to go out tonight, not because he planned on wallowing in his self-pity, but because he has work early tomorrow and he doesn’t exactly think seeing his friends get drunk while _he_ stays sober is his idea of fun. However, Zayn barged into his flat and threatened to never make him his curry ever again and that’s just fucking _rude_.

“It’s freezing, my fingers are going to fall off,” Louis whines.

Zayn turns his body to the side to make room for a couple passing them. “There are these things called _pockets_ to help keep your hands warm. You might have heard of them, they’ve been around for a couple of years.”

He bumps his shoulder against Zayn’s and smiles despite his friend’s sarcasm. “You know, people think that the people living in England dress nice because we wear coats and get to accessorise with scarfs and whatnot, but I’m dressing for my own survival.”

“I need to get a drink in you,” Zayn mutters under his breath.

They approach the pub and once Zayn pulls open the door, Louis rushes inside the warmth and shrugs off his coat. He scans the tables and booths for Liam and Niall and when he does, he turns around to face Zayn with a murderous glare.

“Harry’s here,” Louis hisses. “Why the _hell_ didn’t you tell me?”

Zayn sighs deeply. “Because you wouldn’t have come, obviously. Just go sit and have a couple of drinks, for fuck’s sake. He’s your ex-boyfriend, not the bloody devil.”

Louis just narrows his eyes at him when Zayn gives him a push. “No, that’s _you_.”

Liam spots them and grins widely, standing up immediately. “Hey, we were wondering where you two were.”

Niall and Harry turn around to face them. They have a circle table so there’s no awkward seat at the end, but now he has no choice but to take one of the two remaining seats that are across Harry. “We had a very heated discussion about banning his curry. That’s a line you don’t cross, Malik.”

Zayn pecks Liam on the lips and shrugs his shoulders carelessly. “It got you here and that’s all that matters.”

“I’m not a damn recluse,” Louis says.

Zayn raises his eyebrows at Liam. “Help me out here, babe.”

Liam sighs because he doesn’t want to be caught in the middle, but he turns into fucking putty in Zayn’s hands. “You could go out every once in awhile.”

Louis’ jaw drops open in mock surprise. “ _Liam._ Et tu?”

Zayn happily presses his lips to Liam’s temple and Louis rolls his eyes, taking a swig of his pint. “Anyway,” Liam begins. “We were talking about Niall and Harry’s midterm and how they’re basically fucked.”

Louis tries to ignore how Zayn and Liam’s hands are clasped together while holding their drinks in the other and how Niall and Harry are bumping elbows on the table while he’s just sitting there.

Niall lets out a bark of laughter at the comment of his scholarly demise. “Thanks for your confidence, Liam. You guys were in our shoes once.”

“Glad we got out of that hellhole alive,” Zayn smiles. He holds up his pint and Liam and Louis clink their bottles against his before they each take several gulps.

Harry groans and runs his fingers through his hair. “All the _money_ that goes into school is fucking ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Niall nudges his shoulder against Harry’s to get his attention. “We should start a lemonade stand or something.”

“What good is a bloody lemonade stand going to do you while you’re in _Manchester_?” Louis asks. Harry’s eyes fall on him and he can see out of his peripheral vision that he has a slight smile on his lips, but he ignores it and pays attention to Niall instead.

“Fine, _hot chocolate_. We’ll say it’s for charity,” Niall explains.

Liam scoffs. “What’s the charity?”

“Our student loans.”

They fall into an ongoing conversation about school and graduating without any of it sounding forced. It’s surprisingly easy, but it’s so fucking hard for Louis to sit across Harry when they always sat next to each other. The thing he was afraid of most about hanging out with the group again was how to be _Louis_ when every time they hung all hung out before, it was always _LouisandHarry_.

And the epiphany hits him like a ton of bricks. He has his drink raised to his mouth when he _finally_ realizes what Harry had been saying and he lets the drop slip from his fingers, the bottle falling and spilling it’s contents onto the table.

Niall nearly jumps out of his seat while the rest push their seats away from the table.

“Jesus, Lou!” Zayn shouts. “It’s either you’re clumsy or you’re drunk and I’m hoping it’s the latter.”

He watches Harry pull out napkins from the dispenser and start spreading them across the table. “I, um, need to go. I have paperwork that I forgot about and they need to be done before I go to work tomorrow.”

Zayn looks at him skeptically, but seems too tired to put up a fight. “Do you want me to help you find a taxi?”

Harry’s piling all of the wet napkins into a huge ball and handing it to Liam, who takes it with disgust and walks off to find a bin. He looks at Louis with concern and Louis breaks their eye contact before he lets it get to him. “No, I’m okay. I’m going to walk. Great seeing you lads, I’ll see you guys another time without any spills.”

He spins on his heels before anyone can get another word out and pushes through the drunken bodies to get to the door. The air is suddenly thick and Louis feels like he can’t fucking _breathe_ so when he opens the door and the cool air hits him, he inhales deeply and leans against the brick wall. He takes a few moments to collect himself before he pushes himself off the wall and starts walking back to his flat.

Louis only makes it a couple of feet before he hears Harry’s voice shouting his name and his heavy footsteps hitting the cement, trying to catch up with him. He just sighs and turns around, watching Harry slow to a stop in front of him and try to catch his breath.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks. “You were kind of weird back there all of a sudden.”

They were together for four years and Harry _knows_ when Louis isn’t okay. Louis looks to the empty streets when he feels his eyes prickling with tears.

“I just-” Louis takes a deep breath to steady his voice. “It’s been two months.”

And _Christ_ , Harry looks at him with such pity that Louis wants to just hail a cab right then and there because he’s hit rock bottom, he’s sure of it. He doesn’t want to be around Harry while he’s like this and the fact that he’s looking at him like he’s _sorry_ for him makes it all so much worst.

Louis gnaws on his lips before speaking again. “I mean, it’s been _two_ months and I finally fucking get it. What have I been doing the last two months that it took me this long to understand?”

As much as he’s been trying to fight it, the tears fall down his cheeks and he angrily wipes them away, frustrated because they betrayed him. He scoffs at himself, at his _situation_ and that’s when Harry grabs his hand and pulls him into his chest.

It’s like a storm in the middle of the ocean, all the waves hurtling into one another, but two waves in particular who crash into each other so loud that the rippling effect is deafening. Louis can’t hear Harry murmuring _it’s okay it’s fine_ in his ear because all he can concentrate on is the warmth of Harry’s skin against his and how it’s been so long since he felt Harry’s fingers burning into his skin.

 _How?_ Louis wonders. How is it possible that just the mere touch of Harry, firm but soft, makes everything okay? It’s like the same effect of how just one look at the ocean can make everything seem so peaceful and Louis wants to spend the rest of his life studying how it feels to have Harry move against him in his sleep.

Louis allows him this moment for a couple of more seconds before pulling away from Harry’s embrace and wiping his eyes with his sleeve, releasing a petty laugh. “Sorry- _fuck_ , I’m sorry.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head firmly. “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. God, Lou, there’s no right emotional response to any of this. You can cry or you can laugh, I’ll be here for you.”

 _But you’re not here, not really_ , Louis wants to argue. He’s not here, at least any kind of _here_ that Louis could get to anymore, and he hasn’t been for three months. He’s been off trying to find himself and maybe it’s about time Louis started.

\--

“I’m sorry, _what_ did you say?”

Louis sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I asked if you wanted to hang out, you twat.”

Stan gasps loudly on the other end. “Well someone call the fucking news, because not only has Louis Tomlinson decided to pick up the phone and call his best mate from home, but he’s _also_ asking him to hang out.”

He knew he was going to regret this call, but he had to do _something_ and Louis didn’t want to call the other boys because they always seem to be walking on eggshells around him because they all know of their situation, so he needs to ease his way into getting used to being by himself again. Louis doesn’t know what he was thinking when he thought that calling Stan would be a good idea and now he’s sitting on his couch with a migraine and it’s only been thirty seconds in, _Christ_.

“I’m sorry for being a horrible friend, _there_ I said it. Are you happy now?” Louis hisses.

“Brilliant,” Stan laughs. “What’d you want to do? Are you planning on driving home?”

The last thing he wants to do is go home because that’d be like running away. No, he needs to stay here in London and face everything that he used to see with Harry. He needs to be able to walk past the café down the street without thinking of all the times Harry wouldn’t let Louis touch their food because he had to take a picture of it first. _Do you really need to Instagram this? We were just here last week_ , Louis would say. Harry would just smirk at him and snap a picture at his annoyed face, saying _I’m making a collage this time_ and Louis would just sit there impatiently as Harry took pictures at different angles. _I don’t think anyone cares, love_ , Louis said and Harry replied with _the 12 people who liked it clearly disagrees._

“There’s nothing to do in Doncaster, come to London,” Louis replies.

Stan laughs and he smiles automatically because even though Stan is a pain in the arse, he still missed him. “Alright fine, I’ll drive down but you better have every single minute planned out. I’m not going to waste money and time just to have a shit night.”

“Damn it, now I’ll have to change our plans,” Louis says.

“See you in a couple of hours, you prick,” Stan chuckles.

Louis spends the next three hours cleaning up his flat, not because Stan’s coming, but because he found his remote behind all of the soda and beer cans on his coffee table and he couldn’t find any other briefs because they were all in his pile of laundry that’s been sitting in his room for _weeks_.

He’s just putting away the last of the clean dishes away when there’s a pounding on his door. “Open up!” Stan shouts.

He leaves the forks that he was holding on the counter and pads over to the door. The second it’s open, he’s stumbling backwards at the impact of Stan’s hug. Louis just smiles into the collar of his coat and squeezes him back.

Stan pulls back and looks over at Louis. “Don’t know how you’ve managed to keep your shape up, mate. I’ve probably put on three pounds.”

Louis doesn’t know either because all he’s been eating is take out and fast food since he can’t cook to save his life and because Harry isn’t here to cook his weird healthy food anymore, but he doesn’t mention it because he doesn’t particularly feel like starting the evening on a depressing note.

“You look fine,” Louis replies. “I actually don’t feel like doing shit today, so do you feel like watching the telly with a couple of pints?”

Stan shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

They catch up over pints, ignoring the telly. Stan tells him how he just quit his job because it paid him close to nothing for all the labor he was putting in and that now he was looking for a new job. Whenever he asks Louis about his life, he just steers the conversation back to Stan and how things been at home for him.

Stan swirls the last remnants of his beer in the bottle before tipping his head back and finishing the rest. “Alright, Lou. I’m not daft and I should be offended that you think I would be, but I’ll ignore it so we can focus on more important matters like how Harry and any _evidence_ of him aren’t here.”

Louis sighs heavily and runs his finger through the condensation of his drink. “Or we can _actually_ watch the telly. I think football is on, why the fuck is the channel on the Food Network?”

“I changed it when you went to get us more drinks to see if I could get a reaction out of you since Harry always watches it,” Stan explains.

Louis narrows his eyes at him. “You’re such a little shit.”

“ _I’m_ a little shit?” Stan asks, offended. “I just drove three hours to hang out with my mate in his flat and you’re insulting _me_?”

“Okay, _fine_ , sorry,” Louis grumbles. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

Stan’s face is immediately sympathetic as he leans back against the armrest. “Was it bad?”

Louis scoffs. “What breakup is good?”

“I don’t know,” Stan replies. He stares at hole in his jeans while he contemplates. “The ones where they both end on good terms and remain friends afterwards. Or the one where they _both_ wanted to break up.”

“Lucky for them,” Louis mutters.

Stan bites the inside of his cheek and sighs, looking over at Louis sadly. “What happened?”

He rubs his eyes tiredly with the back of his hand and places his drink on the coffee table. Louis falls back against the cushions, pushing his hair back with both of his hands.

“I don’t know.”

It tastes like saltwater as the words leave his lips. It may sound like an excuse to end the conversation, but it’s the _truth_ and that’s what hurts. Louis just doesn’t _know_ when they started falling apart because he was too busy looking into Harry’s eyes before he fell asleep and feeling an ocean tide in the pit of his stomach.

\--

They were together for three years when they moved in with each other. Louis finished school and started working full time. Harry moved out of his dorm and into Louis’ already small flat. The day they were unpacking all of Harry’s boxes was chaotic and messy and pure fucking _bliss_. Harry didn’t have much to unpack since he didn’t have much to begin with and most of it was already at Louis’ flat, but it was more of the _physical_ aspect. The first night they were officially moved in together, they crawled into bed and Louis’ lips were against Harry’s when he murmured _I’m going to wake up next to you tomorrow morning and the next morning and the next_.

He’s had two months of _next mornings_ without Harry and he used to wake up to his warm breath tickling the back of his neck, but now he wakes up to the cold draft.

Louis didn’t even stay home the day Harry began to pack his things so he could move back to his dorm he shares with Niall. It took them a course of four years to slowly turn his flat into _their_ flat. He would have been mental if he stood by and watched Harry spend one fucking day pack when it took them four years to build.

So it’s not _his_ flat anymore and it’s definitely not _Louis’ and Harry’s_ flat. It’s _Louis’ flat where Harry used to live_ and he spent a good week throwing away any evidence of Harry living there, but he can’t get rid of that title.

A week after bumping into Harry, Louis lies on the couch and watches The Office. When Louis woke up the morning after Harry left, he just felt so _lost_. People told him _it’s going to be okay_ and _the pain will be over soon_. All future tenses, but that’s not what Louis was looking for. Because he knows that things will be okay but it’s _now_ and it fucking sucks. There are just some things that he _misses_. He still misses looking over the top of his menu and seeing Harry peering over at him, his smile hidden behind the menu. He misses the moments when they didn’t talk because their arms wrapped around each other said everything already.

Louis sometimes can’t even believe that they’re _over_ even though it’s been two months because it still hasn’t registered. He believes that maybe their relationship continues to play out in the particles of the ocean air or in their soft breaths that they exhaled together before they went to sleep.

He might not be okay, but he’s getting better. He doesn’t look at the couch and think _that’s where we fell asleep together for the first time_. He can look at the dinner table without the memories of food fights and messy blowjobs before they even made it to dessert. So he might not be okay, but he’s getting better and that’s all Louis can ask for.

There’s a knock on his door and he rolls his eyes, thinking it’s Zayn or Liam, maybe even Stan if he actually got off his arse and made the drive from Doncaster, but he did not except to see _Niall_.

Niall grins widely at him and immediately envelops him in a hug. “Hey, mate. Long time no see, eh?”

He welcomes himself in and leaves Louis standing at the door, looking at him blankly because he’s _here_.

They’ve always been good friends, but when Louis and Harry broke up, he didn’t expect to see him again because they only met since he Harry’s friend and roommate. He knows that Zayn and Liam still talk to Harry, but _Christ_ , he doesn’t know if there’s a line he’s not supposed to step over. Harry wants to separate himself from Louis and he doesn’t know if Niall being in his flat is exactly cutting the ties.

“What are you doing here?” Louis finally asks after he shuts the door.

Niall looks at him, offended. “Visit my friend and steal your food. Food at school fucking sucks. I haven’t had a proper meal in ages. Plus, I wanted to get your opinion on me getting a turtle.”

“I know, I went to school if you didn’t remember,” Louis replies. Niall sits on a stool at the counter and Louis walks over to stand on the opposite side, leaning his elbows on the wooden top. “Why the hell do you want a turtle? You had a fish and that died because you didn’t clean the bowl.”

“I gave it too much love!” Niall protests.

Louis just looks at him unimpressed. “So what, you want to go out for dinner or something? I don’t think I actually have any food around.”

Niall tilts his head to one side and bats his eyes, smiling even wider than before. “Why, _Louis_ , are you asking me out on a date?”

Louis laughs. “Shh, I still have a bloke from last night in my bedroom. Don’t want him knowing that I’ve moved on already.”

And it was a _joke_ and he thought that Niall out of all people would have got that, but he leans back with wide eyes, all playfulness in his face gone.

“Are you serious, Lou?”

Louis straightens up and groans. “No, _Jesus_. Of course I’m not fucking serious.”

Niall heaves out a sigh of relief and shakes his head softly. “How are you?”

And there’s that script again. Louis just shrugs and leans his hip against the counter. “I don’t really want to talk about how I am, I’m tired of it.”

Niall holds his palms up. “Alright. I’m not gonna force you into talking about anything. You _don’t_ want to talk about anything, right?”

“Nope.”

“Cool. But are you _sure_?”

Louis doesn’t know what classes Niall’s taking or what he’s learning, but they should really teach how to leave people the fuck alone.

“Can we just get whatever you want to say out of the way?” Louis says irritably. “It’s not a coincidence that I ran into him a week ago and now you’re here.”

Niall drops his jaw as if Louis just accused him of kicking puppies for fun. “Are you saying that I wouldn’t have come over here at all?”

“I thought that was what he wanted,” Louis answers.

Niall shakes his head once more and scratches his hair under his beanie. “I’m your friend, too. He came home after he saw you and he was quiet for the rest of the night. Just because you guys broke up doesn’t mean he wants to stop being your friend, Lou.”

Louis throws his hands up incredulously. “So this is _my_ fault, then? First, he feels suffocated with me and now I’m giving him too much space. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, but don’t pretend that he doesn’t mean anything to you. Don’t pretend that he doesn’t _exist_ ,” Niall replies.

Louis wants to laugh because that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it? The fact that Harry’s out there moving and breathing and just fucking _existing_ out there in the world at the same time as Louis, but not _with_ him. Not anymore.

“He should have thought about that before he told me that he wants to _find himself_ ,” Louis says. He thinks of the time Harry whispered _I finally found you_ three months in.

Niall looks at him and his eyes appear to be pleading at him. “Don’t make me say all the cheesy shit you know I hate.”

“I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“But you have to _understand_.”

“Understand what?”

Niall drops his head onto the counter as if this is the most draining task he’s ever had. He picks his head back up and takes a deep breath. “You two were in your own fucking world. You guys _barely_ went out and just holed yourselves up in the flat.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Louis denies.

“I wish I was, mate. Zayn and Liam think so, too,” Niall argues.

“Well Zayn and Liam aren’t exactly going out getting pissed drunk every other night either,” Louis points out. “Why aren’t they having these kind of problems?”

Niall drags his fingernail down the wooden counter. “Maybe because they’ve been together for six fucking years? That’s twice as long as you guys which means twice the amount of time to get their shit together. Have you even spoken to either of them about this?”

“I talked to Zayn the other day,” Louis mumbles. “But for the most part, no because I didn’t want to talk about this at all.”

Niall finally stands up and stretches. “Well, I’m tired of talking about this. Now are you going to take me out for dinner or what?”

\--

University of Manchester is roughly 200 miles from his flat in London. It’s not _pathetic_ that he knows this- _Christ_ , give him some credit- but after being together for four years, it was bound to come up some time.

It was a number that always floated around in Louis’ bed while Harry lived there for school before moving in together. He still had a year left when they eventually decided to live together and Louis always argued that he might as well just finish his last year before moving in. _I only go to school two times a week, if you think I’m going to go home to a dorm rather than come home to_ you _then you’re mental_ Harry reasoned.

It’s really fucking ironic how things actually ended up.

Louis used to lie in bed and think those 200 miles weren’t that big of a distance because Harry was still _his_.  He knew that Harry would eventually come home to him and then nights wouldn’t seem as long. He knew that the two cups of coffees he would make while waiting for him to come home would get cold, but he didn’t care because he didn’t mind drinking cold coffees with him. They would tangle together in the bed with coffee stained breaths, lying wide-eyed beside each other until the sunrise.

But now, 200 miles has such a somber ring to it. He thinks of it and he feels _empty_ because there are no more _200 kisses_ or _200 your fingers in mine_ or _200 times of slowly opening my eyes and waking up to you_.

200 miles always held so much for them.

\--

Going out with his coworkers is something Louis always hated because well, why hang out with his _coworkers_ when he could go home to Harry?

He doesn’t even know if _they_ know that he and Harry aren’t together anymore, but they invite him to go out regardless. When he agrees, he catches Jade and Perrie raise their eyebrows in surprise as they close the door.

“Where are we going?” Perrie asks, skipping as they walk down the street.

Out of the six, he only likes Jade and Perrie. He _tolerates_ the rest only because they all think they can boss Louis around when they’re really just the assistant to the assistant to the assistant of the manger, _Christ_.

Nick exhales loudly so he can be sure everyone hears how irritated he is. “We told you five times Perrie. _Bowling_.”

Perrie smiles more brightly than the fluorescent lamps. “Well, our group is six now that Louis’ coming along! An even number so I have a partner.”

She hooks her arm around Louis’ and looks at him with practically sparkling eyes.

“I’d love to be your partner, Perrie,” Louis laughs. “If there were partners in bowling, which there aren’t.”

Perrie pouts. “Well that’s no fun.”

“There are more guys than girls in the office,” Nick points out. “So how is it that there are four girls and two guys?”

Jesy swats him on the arm so hard that Nick fumbles backwards and rubs his arm. “Who cares if there are more guys? It’s people like you that are the reason why women are held back in jobs.”

“What? I was just pointing out a fact, you don’t need to get _violent_ ,” Nick grumbles as he massages his arm.

Leigh-Ann rolls her eyes and grimaces as she walks further ahead to catch up to Louis and Perrie. “The fact that you even needed to point it out says it all.”

She grabs onto Louis’ other arm and he smiles at her. He’s starting to like them much more than he anticipated.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Nick groans. “When did Louis start becoming the good guy?”

Louis looks over his shoulder to glare at him. “When did I even become the bad guy?”

Nick doesn’t answer him because they get to the bowling alley. Once they get their shoes and plates of nachos because it’s apparently protocol to get them when you’re bowling, they settle down into what Louis sees as a serious game of competitive bowling. When Leigh-Ann scores a strike, Jesy springs up from the table so fast that she knocks over their food. Louis and Perrie are the worst so they don’t try at all and laugh it off when it ends up in the gutter. The only way they can even get one pin to knock down is if they have the gutter guards.

“Are they always like this?” Louis asks, nodding to where Nick is trying to distract Jesy.

Perrie smiles. “Scarily competitive? Oh yeah. If you think this is bad, you should see them at karaoke.”

“That’s not even a competition or a _game_.”

“Exactly.”

Louis laughs and watches as the ball slowly ways to the right. They all watch in anticipation; Jesy with her hands clasped together against her mouth as if she’s praying, Nick with his fists clutched tight, and Leigh-Ann and her wide eyes. The ball suddenly sways left as if there was a magnet and it strikes all of the pins down.

Jesy jumps while Nick and Leigh-Ann groan in unison. Louis and Perrie stand up to clap their hands and Jesy laughs, bowing.

He doesn’t remember the last time he had this much fun, with his _coworkers_ for that matter, but it feels good. That doesn’t change the fact that he still wishes Harry were by his side, probably sliding around with his bowling shoes. He still wishes he was with Harry so he’s doing _better_ , but he’s not okay.

\--

He’s at work when it happens, just filing some papers when his phone goes off in his pocket. When he pulls it out, his eyebrows immediately furrows together when he reads _Harry_ as the contact.

Louis’ finger hovers over the _answer_ button for a couple seconds before he finally taps it and holds his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

 _Hiccup_. “Hey, Lou,” Harry says. His voice is raspy as if he just woke up, but it’s two in the afternoon and Harry was the one who always woke up before them. He might have taken a nap after his classes and Louis used to know his schedule by heart, but now he doesn’t even know what classes he’s taking.

“Hey, what’s up?” Louis asks.

“This is going to sound stup- _“_ Harry begins before a hiccup interrupts him. “I have the hiccups.”

If anyone overheard their conversation, they probably would think it sounds stupid, but Louis knows better. Harry’s prone to hiccups, especially if he eats too fast, and Louis would always be there to bring him a glass of water and to time him when he held his breath. One time, a very pregnant Gemma was over and Harry got them after dinner. Louis and Gemma read online that if you scared them, then it would go away. They made a plan so Gemma went to the bathroom and knocked over their soaps and bottles to make it seem as if she fell over. Harry bolted to the bathroom, breathless and Louis and Gemma looked at him with wide, anticipated eyes in silence and Harry just hiccupped in response.

And _yeah_ , it does sound stupid because they’re just the bloody hiccups and nobody, not even a 21 year old, needs someone to hold their hand through it. It’s just- it’s not even _about_ that. It’s the fact that Louis was there to help him no matter how ridiculous it was.

Louis clears his throat before speaking. “Did you, um, hold your breath?”

“No one’s here to count for me,” Harry mutters so softly that Louis barely caught it.

It’s on the tip of Louis’ tongue to blurt out _I’m here for you I’ve always been here for you_ but the fact that Harry called him in the first place tells Louis that he already knows that. The only thought going through Louis’ head is _stupid stupid stupid_ because Harry could have just used his fucking timer on his phone, but he decided to make it more complicated on him just so he could call Louis and it’s just _stupid_ and he is so fond of him.

“Okay, hold your breath when I say ‘go’, okay? When I get to five seconds, start taking sips of water slowly,” Louis instructs.

“Got it. Just let me get a glass of water,” Harry replies. There’s some rustling down the other end and Louis waits patiently. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Okay, _go_ ,” Louis says.

He counts to five before he hears Harry sipping water and he gets to twelve when Harry exhales loudly.

“Wait…” Harry says. Louis leans against the metal cabinets and picks at the lint on his trousers. “They’re gone!”

Louis grins. “Wasn’t so hard this time.”

It’s so easy to imagine that nothing has changed; they never broke up and Louis would be seeing him once he comes home. Everything is just so _easy_ yet so fucking hard when it comes to Harry that Louis just doesn’t know what to _do_.

“I guess you’ve become an expert,” Harry answers. “What were you doing? Was I interrupting anything?”

There’s a lump in his throat that he swallows. “I’m at work, but I’m not doing anything important. Just some filing.”

“Are you doing anything after work?”

He stares blankly at the stack of papers he has yet to file. Louis _knows_ Harry could simply be curious about his plans, but it sounds a lot like it’s a precursor question to asking him to hang out.

“I need to stop by Tesco’s to pick up some things,” Louis answers. It’s not a lie, he really does need to restock his fridge because he’s living off of take-out and bags of crisps he somehow finds shoved all the way in the back of the cabinets, but he didn’t plan on going after work.

“Can I come with?” Harry hesitantly asks.

He closes his eyes and pulls his knees to his chest. “Aren’t you at school?”

“I stay with Ed if I come down for the weekend,” Harry quietly says.

That _hurts_ because there was never any question of _if_ Harry was going to come down. It was always Harry sneaking into the flat because he liked to surprise Louis, even though he always used to think he was a murderer. What hurts is that he used to come _home_ and now he stays over at a friend’s house because their home doesn’t exist anymore, not really. He can’t turn over to hide his face in the crook of Harry’s shoulder as if it were an underwater cave that he’d drown himself in if it meant that he never had to leave. _They_ don’t exist anymore and that’s a pronoun that Louis needs to forget.

He rubs at the back of his neck and sighs. “Yeah, if you want.”

“I do,” Harry says firmly as if he knows Louis will doubt it. “Can we get coffee from that place down the street from the flat first?”

It’s ridiculous for Louis to even notice it, but he said _the_ flat, not _your_ flat and that has to mean something but he doesn’t know what.

“It’s Saturday, Tesco’s closes early,” Louis answers.

“Yeah, that’s why I said coffee first.”

Louis laughs softly. “You _just_ said you wanted to go to Tesco’s.”

“I have leftover pasta that I can give you,” Harry replies.

It’s nothing. This whole phone call is _nothing_ , yet Louis can’t help but pin something significant to each little thing. He can’t help it; just the simple touch of Harry’s fingertips would send shocks through his veins as if they were wires.

“Okay no Tesco’s, I’ll take your offer on the pasta,” Louis finally says. “I’ll meet you at the coffee shop in half an hour?”

“See you in half an hour,” Harry chirps happily.

Louis hangs up and tosses his phone, watching it skid across the carpet floors and bump against the opposite wall. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and quickly finishes the rest of the filing. His legs are numb when he finally stands up and he grabs his coat off the chair before saying his farewells to the office and leaving.

The coffee shop was a place that they considered just for them. When they were together for only a couple of months and couldn’t decide to go, the coffee shop would always be where they ended up. It was one of they many places that they wouldn’t mind spending their time if they weren’t at home, especially the mornings of the days when Harry left to return to school. It’s quaint and Louis always wondered how it was always quiet when it seemed so full of life.

When he enters the coffee shop, it doesn’t take long for his eyes fall on Harry. When their eyes meet, Harry beams and waves him over. He’s sitting at the table they would always sit at because they became regulars that everyone just knew that it was _their_ table. He makes his way over and doesn’t glance down at the wooden table where Harry scratched _I found you, but you’re not here_ when Louis couldn’t meet him one weekend because he had to drive home to take care of his sick mum.

Harry eyes him with that small smile playing on his lips. “You look exhausted. I ordered you tea with three sugars.”

He tells himself that it’s _nothing_.

“Thanks,” Louis smiles. “And no, somebody must have sacrificed a lamb or something because it hasn’t been as busy.”

Harry throws his head back and releases a laughter that echoes throughout the entire shop. His eyes crinkle and his lips are stretched wide across his face, all of his teeth on display. The people in the coffee shop turn to look at them and wish they were the ones to make him laugh like that. Louis just thinks he’s gone mental because it wasn’t even remotely funny, but Harry was always the one to laugh at the smallest things.

“How have you b-“

Louis groans and shakes his head. “Can we not ask each other those questions? You know how much I hate small talk. You know I don’t care about the weather or how our jobs are.”

Harry bites his lips, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I know. I just-I miss you. When I ask you how you’ve been, it’s because I’m telling you that I just fucking _miss_ you, Lou. I want to know how you’ve been because I don’t wake up next to you anymore and there’s something wrong with that.”

At a couple tables down from them, a little kid spills his orange juice and a waiter rushes over to help clean it up. The couple at the table beside them have their hands interlocked on the table and are eating their food with their other hands. A man in a business suit enters the shop and yells down the other end of the line. The shop is _alive_ , loud noises are everywhere, yet Louis can’t hear anything. The entire place could have been empty for all he knows because all that matters now is that _Harry_ is in front of him, telling him how much he misses him.

A waitress stops by their table and places two steaming cups of tea on the table. Harry flashes her a grateful smile before she walks away and then returns his eyes to Louis, who reaches for his cup and takes a gulp. He lets it burn his tongue and winces when it slides down his throat.

“I don’t know what you want,” Louis murmurs.

Harry smiles sadly. “I don’t know either. I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. There are times when I’m happy, but then I get sad too, you know?”

 _Don’t keep this going if you’re miserable_ , Louis wants to say, _there’s warmth and content and happiness waiting for you here please just come home_.

But Louis just keeps quiet and nods his head, giving him a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I mean, I don’t know what I want, but I think I’m close to figuring it out.”

It’s _nothing_ , but it’s some kind of better nothing.

\--

The streets are crowded on a Wednesday afternoon as Louis walks to Zayn’s flat. He’s constantly being pushed and shoved but he doesn’t have enough effort to become angry because he’s lazy and that just goes to show how fucking low he’s gone.

When he gets to Zayn’s flat, he opens the door because Zayn always leaves it unlocked whenever he invites him over and sees Zayn on a ladder with a screwdriver.

“What the hell are you doing?” Louis asks as he takes off his jacket and slumps back onto the couch. “In the six years I’ve known you, I have never seen you _touch_ a screwdriver. That’s what Liam’s for.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and adjusts something on the ceiling. “Something’s wrong with the lighting so I’m trying to fix it so you know, I can _see_.”

“Open the curtains, you caveman.”

“Are you blind, Lou? You were just outside, you’ve seen how gloomy it is. It won’t do shit.”

Louis props his feet onto the coffee table. “Well, have fun with that. I’m gonna watch football if you need me.”

“Wait, can you-“

“If it requires me exerting energy, I’m not doing it.”

Zayn climbs down the ladder carefully and tosses the screwdriver onto the counter. He sits next to Louis and groans tiredly as if he’s been working for the past twelve hours when he probably hasn’t even been working for twelve minutes.

“So Harry told me you guys had coffee the other day,” Zayn says.

Louis turns to face him with raised eyebrows in piqued interest. “Oh? Why was I even a topic to begin with?”

“When _aren’t_ you a topic?” Zayn replies. “It’s all he’s been fucking talking about whenever he’s over. I don’t get you two.”

Louis throws his hands up incredulously. “I didn’t even do anything! I swear, you and Niall are placing blame on me when I haven’t done shit.”

“You’ve done something, we just haven’t figured it out yet,” Zayn sighs tiredly.

Louis shakes his head. “Well, let me know when you’ve figured it out so I can make sense of it.”

“How have you been handling it?” Zayn questions.

“I’m okay,” Louis shrugs, toying with the zipper of his jacket. “I mean I’m better. _Jesus_ , that sounds lame like what am I, in fucking rehab?”

Zayn cracks a smile, his eyes crinkling. “Who knew that day would finally come?”

\--

He doesn’t know how it happens, but one moment he’s typing a report for work and the next he’s sitting next to Harry on the bed. He doesn’t know why Harry wanted to come over and he doesn’t know how they ended up on the bed. Louis would give it more thought if he tried. He would retrace everything that happened, but he doesn’t fucking care. All of whatever happened has led to Harry next to him, where he should be. Where he has always been.

Louis rubs his eyes tiredly and rolls over onto his back. “What time is it?”

Harry glances away from the book he’s reading and checks his watch. “Half past twelve.”

He raises himself on his elbows, looking up at him with wide eyes. “ _What?_ Really?”

Harry sets his book down on his lap and smirks. “No, it’s half past eleven. You just got an hour of life back. You’re welcome.”

“You’re a twat,” Louis groans as he falls on his back again, closing his eyes. Harry nudges his arm with his bony elbow and Louis ignores him until he feels a finger up his nostril. He slowly opens his eyes and peeks up at Harry who’s looming over him. “May I help you?”

“Are you tired? You can go to sleep.”

Harry removes his finger from Louis’ nose, but doesn’t lean back.

“I know,” Louis rolls his eyes. “It _is_ my bed.”

He didn’t mean for it to come out like that because it was _their_ bed and it still feels that way, how it settles back into getting used to carrying two people now.

Harry just smiles down at him. “You still take up most of it.”

“I can’t help it if I need to move around. Plus, you probably take up more space because you are so gigantic- _move_.”

Louis shoves at his chest until Harry falls backwards, laughing. They shift around each other until they’re lying on their sides facing each other, their noses just barely brushing.

“I tried not to miss you,” Harry says quietly. Before Louis could retort, he interrupts him. “So much for that.”

Louis laughs softly and nudges closer, their lips ghosting over each other.

“This is different,” Harry murmurs.

Louis pinches his eyebrows together in confusion. “What is?”

“ _This_ ,” Harry answers. “Lying in bed with you. It’s different from the couch at Ed’s or the bed in my dorm. Everything with you is like rustled sheets and tea you made me try- better than I would have known. Even the places I don’t even know that were just down the _street_ , you know? I just- I never noticed. Not before you.”

The room is quiet except for the only noises being Harry’s exhale replying to Louis’ inhale.

Harry shifts closer and noses along Louis’ jawline. He’s hesitant but when Louis finally relaxes into him, he wraps his arms around his waist to pull him in and it’s _everything_ to feel Harry’s skin against his. He immediately buries his face in his shoulder and tangling their legs together.

The cars zooming down the streets, people shouting, and dogs barking are the noises outside the window. A world full of noises but the world is quiet here.

\--

The second worst thing after early mornings is late nights. When Louis would be exhausted from work and Harry knackered from school and they would stumble into bed. They would both be just so out of it, but they would still have enough energy to lazily drag their lips against each other. Harry would slot his fingers in the contours of Louis’ hips while Louis’s fingers raked his fingers through the waves of his hair. They would find themselves moving against each other so fervently that it’s no wonder the ocean sounds louder at night.

Louis lies in bed and tries not to about how the only sounds he hears now are the rustling of the sheets. He wants nothing more than Harry’s fingers ghosting along his skin as if he were made of glass and for his neck to be covered with the sheet of Harry’s breath. The first month was falling into a sea of blankets and being greeted by his lingering scent, so Louis wrapped himself in the sheets and floated in the waters of what he had left of Harry.

He grabs his phone and turns it on, squinting at the brightness. Once his eyes have adjusted, he opens an empty text.

_i know it’s late but is it okay if i call you? i miss the sound of your voice_

He wants to write other things while he’s at it like _I miss your hands I miss your lips I just miss you please come back to me_ , but he doesn’t because texting him is already unfair of him in the first place.

His phone vibrates a couple seconds later.

_please_

Louis’ fingers tremble as he goes to his contacts and calls him. It rings once before he answers, greeting him with a release of breath as if he were holding it.

“Hi,” Harry says softly.

Louis smiles because he sounds so _close_. “I thought you’d be sleeping.”

There’s a short silence before Harry speaks again. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

He slowly inhales and exhales, shifting lower on the bed until his head isn’t lying on the pillow anymore before he tugs the blanket over his head. “The beds in the dorms are more uncomfortable than the floor.”

Harry laughs softly. “Yeah and neither are good for your back.”

“Horrible,” Louis says. “Wouldn’t want you getting scoliosis at such a young age, that’d be tragic.”

“Lou,” Harry murmurs. “It’s Friday.”

He bites back from throwing out a Rebecca Black joke because _it’s Friday_. Fridays were the days when Harry would come home from school before they moved in together. They were three days and two nights of lazing around the flat and seeing what happened in their weeks just from kissing each other’s skin. A bruise here, a scar down his thigh there, a love bite from last week right… _there_.

“My bed never gave you back problems,” Louis replies.

He can almost see Harry’s smile stretching across his lips. “And there was always you.”

Louis swallows the lump in his throat and hides his smile into his forearm. “Yeah, there’s that, too.”

“I’ll see you in three hours, give or take.”

“Harry, it’s half past twelve. You’re gonna drive well into the night just to sleep on a more comfortable bed?”

“And to see you, don’t forget that bit.”

“Okay, fine. You’re going to drive three hours for a bed and me?”

“Well… yeah.”

The worst part plays in; the waiting. Three fucking _hours_ of stumbling around his flat only to end up back in his bed because _of course_ that’s where he ends up, where else would he be? He can’t think of anywhere else that seems more appropriate than his bed. It’s where it all started. It’s where he discovered Harry’s arms wrapped around him are where he feels most at home. His bed is where they had their first fight and Harry walked out, but returned two hours later, fitting his cheek into the depression of Louis’ shoulder. It’s where he fell in love with his best friend.

When he hears a soft knock on his door, he slowly lifts the blankets off him and walks to his door. He tries to slow his heart beat but he finds that there’s no point because once he opens it and sees Harry, his heart is back to pounding at his chest.

Harry has his hands shoved so far into his coat pockets that Louis’ scared that he’ll never see them again. He smiles timidly. “Hi.”

Louis exhales a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Hi.”

Harry looks at him in the eyes and takes inhales slowly before letting it go and says, “I love you.”

It’s as silent as a lost ship in the middle of a peaceful ocean. Louis stares blankly at him, his hand gripping tighter on the doorknob that he’s still holding.

“I’ve tried thinking of a new way to say it because people say that the more times you say something, it loses it’s meaning,” Harry mutters. “But I’ve thought and thought and _thought_ , but every time it’s still I love you.”

Louis leans his head against the door and smiles weakly. “I’ve missed you so much. Did you find yourself without me?”

Harry walks forward and places his hands on either sides of Louis’ face, running his thumb along his cheekbone. “I found that I never want to be without you again.”

And that’s all Louis was hoping for, so he surges forward to crash his lips against Harry’s looking as if they were tidal waves rolling against each other. Louis feels as if his entire body is shaking at how overwhelmed he is. His hands run up his chest, getting himself familiar again while Harry presses _I love you I love you I love you_ into his neck.

Louis remembers the first time they kissed. It was the first time Louis regretted all of the other kisses he’s ever had because Harry’s lips against his made him realize how something so small, something so minute, could be the one thing he looks forward to. It made him realize how much a kiss can actually mean. Louis felt as if an anchor had been dropped in the pit of his stomach as if to say _here is where I’m supposed to be_.

Louis grasps Harry’s hand and leads them to the bedroom. He contemplates for half a second before he hesitatingly lies down and Harry smiles softly before lying next to him.

Harry sighs and it fans over his face like the soft breeze of the ocean. Louis thinks that even just his soft sigh sounds like a poem. “I was alone and it felt _good_ , but it never felt right. This-“ Harry tightens his arms around Louis’ waist, “ _this_ feels right.”

They lie together quietly for a while, Harry’s thumb drawing circles absently on his hip.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers. Louis looks at him, but he has his eyes on where his fingertips are on his skin. “I know I sprung this on you and I’m so sorry for that and every miserable minute we could have spent being happy.”

“I tried to be on my own,” Louis murmurs. “And I know we got lost in each other, but I think we can be ourselves and be together, you know? There’s being alone and then there’s solitude and I just want to spend my solitude with you.”

“You get what I was trying to say though, right?” Harry asks.

Louis sighs. “I do, but… I can’t _be_ without you. I know it sounds cheesy, but fuck Harry, it’s true. I can’t imagine it even though I _lived_ it.”

Harry cranes his neck down so he can kiss him before pulling away slightly. “I can.”

He’s about to lean back so he could look at Harry with confused eyes, but Harry just shakes his head. “I mean, you can too, obviously since you just said you lived it. We can be without each other, but we don’t _want_ to. I can imagine a million other lives where I’m happy and rich and live on a beach house or whatever, but I don’t want any of that. I just want you.”

“Okay,” Louis nods. “I get what you’re saying. For the record, I just want you, too.”

Harry smiles widely and kisses him again, falling backwards and pulling Louis with him so he falls against his chest. He rolls over so he’s on top and moves onto his forearms so he doesn’t crush Louis with his weight. Their legs are intertwined, rustling against the sheets and they’re movements are languid yet eager.

Zayn’s voice saying _I don’t get you two_ suddenly rings in his head and Louis smiles slightly because _people will never understand this_ is something Harry said once while he pulled Louis in closer to him _, they’ll never understand us_. Even then, Louis had no idea what he was talking about because there was nothing to _get_. They were two people and they were in love, he didn’t understand why anybody would want to read more into that. But now, he might see what he was talking about.

The ocean is one of the mysteries of the world because nobody knows what lies in the vast depth of it. People take it at face value; something as simple as a body of water is beautiful. They see and look at it, touch it and swim inside its embrace, but nobody will understand or own it because it is unwilling to stop. It’s constantly changing and unpredictable.

In the end, isn’t everyone essentially just bodies of water? Louis thinks that he’s just one body with a separate part- that being Harry- to define a whole just like the ocean is made up of parts like the Atlantic and Pacific.

Maybe that’s what Harry was getting at. Maybe Harry with his arms around him and his face tucked into his shoulder exist just to evoke a feeling of _home_ and not to _mean_ something.

Louis feels like what they have has the expanse and depths of the ocean. He’s spent years wondering what the bottom of the oceans has and he never thought he’d find out. He still hasn’t found out, but he thinks that if the ocean could look like love, it’d look a lot like this. There’s not enough ink and paper for Louis to say what he wants, but it’s okay because what they have will probably survive the extinction of humans. It’ll linger in the air of the ocean breeze.


End file.
